(Previous Part 1 : Southern California)
Part 2 Baja Norte, Mexico
Entering Mexico, I felt the change. Just a few feet from the border crossing, I stopped by a Mexican official, and tried to ask him about how do I get on Hwy 1D towards Ensenada. To my surprise, he did not speak English. You would have thought, at-least near the border crossing, folks would be bilingual. Thus started my sign language, which every one understands, and I get my answer, which is to follow road, and you will see signs.
I wanted to get out of the crowded cities such as Tijuana and Ensenada as soon as possible. Now, it was not as difficult as I had originally thought. The signs to highways were reasonably well written. While I had my GPS, I kept my eyes peeled to any sign that pointed towards Ensenada, as my previous experiences have taught me that sometimes the GPS directions could be misleading.
I rode at a moderate pace, and was impressed with the toll road, called Cuoto, between Tijuana and Ensenada. There were sights of the big Pacific ocean on my right. Sometimes I could even see the surf breaking.
Was also surprised to find the amount of development, tall buildings announcing ocean views, and low financing, clearly targeted towards Gringos across the border. About 40-50 miles into Mexico, I started to relax a little bit, and was looking for a place to take a break and stretch my legs.
Soon enough, I happened on a pull over place, right next to the Pacific Ocean, with a lot of small shops, vendors trying to sell cheap jewelry, hats, toys etc. I pulled over and strolled to a shop that was selling coconuts, fruits and snacks. I ask for a coconut, and choose a mango from the basket, which the lady said she would cut it and bring it to me.
Its been a while I had fresh coconut water. It was delicious. And soon enough, she brought the sliced up mango with some hot sauce, lemon, and whatever else. That was even more delicious. I starting to feel that my decision to travel to this side of the border was after all a good one.
I thank the lady serving the food, and asked for permission to take her picture. She agrees coyly, and gives rather a nice smile.
I quickly get back on the road, and soon enough enter Ensenada. It was already 2 o'clock in the afternoon. I get gas at a Pemex station, the only of a kind that sells gas in Mexico, and weave through the streets of the town. The pace is very slow, with many signals, cars and people, I am feeling the heat inside my riding suit. I am thankful for the GPS guiding me.
I still have about 230 miles to get to Cataviña. Not a big deal I tell myself. But I was very wrong, as the usual travel times do not apply anymore. There are too many small towns, too many speed breaks and a few stretches of construction zones. Riding the ST1100 is no fun on dirt roads, little did I know I will be honing my skills, let alone getting scared riding on the occasional soft spots. Everytime I pass a construction zone with a diversion entirely a dirt road, there is a little hope that its going to be the last. To my dismay I find there is a LOT of road constructions. The machine rattles so much, that I am afraid that things will start falling apart.
By evening time, I reach El Rosario. Its almost 7 PM and even though there is sunlight, the sun seems to be in a hurry to call it a day. I fill up at the last Pemex station. There is no gas for the next 200 miles or so, until Guerrero Negro. Thats not true quite true, later I find out. I did carry two extra bottles which can hold half a gallon or so for good measure.
My GPS does not take the Mexican addresses well, as the format of the addresses in Mexico is different and the GPS does not recognize it.
My only hope is to reach the town and figure out the rest. I set the destination as Cataviña, and I do have a reservation at Hotel Mission Cataviña. Its another 90 miles or so.
Without knowing Spanish, its going to be hard even to ask for directions. As I am brooding over how am I going to spot the place, I saw an SUV with California license plate pull in. There was a dad, and his teenager daughter with two dogs. As the daughter takes the dogs for a little walk, the dad is filling up. Finally seeing someone from my home state, I strike a conversation. The talk was brief, and luckily they are going to the same hotel as I am. I ask him if he minds if I followed him. He says, "I dont mind at all, but you may be bored with following a slow car with a fast bike. You will spot the hotel on the right side of the road, as there is only one in the main strip, you cannot miss it".
For the fancy, I do follow him out of the gas station for a little bit. As we leave the town in a few miles, the road starts to climb. The sun, now almost at the horizon casting beautiful colors on the desert landscape. Unfortunately, there are no places to pull over to click a picture, as the shoulders exist barely and when they did, they are gravelly. I curse myself as I forgot to change batteries on my GoPro to even record the scenery.
There is a lot of cactuses, and nothing but cactuses, and their silhouettes stand tall and proud in front of the setting sun. A desert breeze, now lot cooler, was very pleasant.. I thought it was one of the most beautiful roads I had been on. Luckily, there are no construction zones on this stretch. I start to make good progress, and pass my friendly SUV, as he was indeed in no hurry to get anywhere anytime soon.
The darkness replaces the faint light, and I had to turn on my PIAA driving lights. The whole of Baja Peninsula is open range, as I will later learn. Even though I see the road in the faint light and the silhouette of the distant hills, the visibility was getting very poor. I dodge a few rabbits, and soon I see a cow wandering in the middle of the road when I come zooming past a curve. My heart skipped a beat, as the animal casts a indifferent look at me and continues to wander.
Finally, I see some car light, though a few miles behind me, keeping pace with me and may be even more. I feel a little safe knowing some one behind me even if I were to encounter an animal and go down.
After what seemed like an eternity through the twisties, I get close to Cataviña. A final stretch of construction appears just before the town limits, luckily its a very short one, and I hated riding on dirt in darkness.
I slowed down to a crawl as my GPS announced that I reached the destination, looking for any signs for the hotel, And there it was - a faint sign that said just hotel and not even the name of the hotel.
Like all places, other than the road, the sides are gravel. I pull in carefully, and it was indeed Hotel Mission Cataviña. As soon as I pull in, a cop car also pulls in right behind me. It was a cop all along who was behind me. In Mexico, the speed limits are in KM. I have been doing the same limit in miles, and by those standards I was speeding. There was a little lump in my throat, but he walks by ignoring me.
I check into the hotel, and surprised to find a beautiful place with clean rooms. Its one of those places, where once you step in, you want to come back. Certainly its a historic place, as the plaque in front announces.
A decent dinner, and a margarita in the restaurant inside the resort surely cheer me up.
The next day morning, I get up early to look around the surroundings. The hotel is very clean. With tiled floors and rustic furnitures, it has a country feel.
A dilapidated structure, which I assume was a gas station once upon a time, and went out of business long ago.
This place reminded me of the trip on Route 66 I took last year. It was a common sight to see a lot of broken down old cars, ghost towns, houses, restaurants and businesses on the way, which probably thrived when the road was originally built. Now, no one stops on the way, every one eager to cross the desert as soon as they can.
Right across the street is a quaint small cafe. I see the gentleman from California, whom I met the day before, and his daughter enter that place. In the mood for a little conversation, I follow them inside. The place is nothing but a thatched roof, with gravel flooring.
This place has a kitchen in the back, just like the one in homes. One lady takes the order and starts cooking. I order for coffee, and an omelette. The coffee was delicious, one of the best I ever had. It had a earthy flavor. And the omelette, big enough for me to not want lunch.
I found good company with that gentlemen, and his daughter - we talked a bit about travelling in Mexico, and what an untouched/unspoilt place this Baja is. They have been to Baja many times, and love to surf there. And a bit of talk about the last basket season, and Warriors team, certainly cheered the young girl. It was nice to see her passionate about basketball, and a big fan of my local Warriors team.
While there are no gas stations, gas is available on the road side. So, I decide to fill up for a good measure. Even though I knew it could be expensive, there was some satisfaction in giving business to the guy sitting on the road side, hoping make a living.
Leaving Cataviña, I realize how beautiful the place is in broad daylight, as it winds down to the plains of Guerrero Negro. It was an enjoyable ride through the desert in the morning. As the day progresses, the temperature becomes too hot.
Then I see a construction zone, and I had to stop. They are laying new pavement - and the alternative is the usual mud road on the side. Now that I had ridden on some dirt road, there was some confidence in my mind, and the closure does not seem that long. Without thinking, I follow the cars. But, boy I was wrong!
Unlike the previous ones, this was a Vado (a river crossing or a ford). There was a lot of soft sand. And before I realize it I am deep in to the road, with no option of turning around. Not paying much attention, and sweating dearly inside my suit I crawl trying to follow the tire marks of the truck in front of me. It did not take much for a heavy bike with road tires to get struck in the soft sand, and the rear wheel started spinning. The more I tried to get out, more it sank, and the front wheel also got struck in the soft sand, almost about a foot deep.
I get down from the bike, and ask help from the truck driver behind me who was patiently waiting for me to make progress. Once again, I had to use sign language to communicate how I want help. The traffic was piling behind me. With one guy pushing the bike, it still would not budge. I asked a second guy in a car to give a helping hand. Even then, it was impossible to move the bike as the rear wheel starts to spin in the sand. Finally I got out of my helmet and gloves, literally went on my knees and started to dig the sand out of the wheels way. I was nervous and getting tired too fast. Finally another try gets the bike off the quick sand, and slowly move inch at a time across the unpaved road to the main road where the construction ended. I wave a hearty thank you to those strangers who helped me out of this situation. These are the second set of angels who sweated along side me without any expectation, just to see a stranger get back on the road.
Pausing for a moment, I reflect on the fact that sometimes travelling alone could be dangerous. If I did not have the help, I could have been stranded there. I could have hit such a patch late in the night, and may not be a good situation to be alone, asking for trouble. Its certainly a good idea to have companions on such trips, not only for sharing the good experience but to be able to help and look out for each other.
From that point onwards, the ride was uneventful. I do take a break a little later, a dilapidated place, where there was some sign of gasoline from a truck. I am treated to a beautiful sight from the windowless wall. A couple of these kind of sights make it worth all the troubles.
I cross Guerrero Negro, right past the Baja Norte border. I do not realize the timezone changes here, ahead by one hour.
Next : Part 3 - Baja Sur (South Baja).
Part 2 Baja Norte, Mexico
Entering Mexico, I felt the change. Just a few feet from the border crossing, I stopped by a Mexican official, and tried to ask him about how do I get on Hwy 1D towards Ensenada. To my surprise, he did not speak English. You would have thought, at-least near the border crossing, folks would be bilingual. Thus started my sign language, which every one understands, and I get my answer, which is to follow road, and you will see signs.
I wanted to get out of the crowded cities such as Tijuana and Ensenada as soon as possible. Now, it was not as difficult as I had originally thought. The signs to highways were reasonably well written. While I had my GPS, I kept my eyes peeled to any sign that pointed towards Ensenada, as my previous experiences have taught me that sometimes the GPS directions could be misleading.
I rode at a moderate pace, and was impressed with the toll road, called Cuoto, between Tijuana and Ensenada. There were sights of the big Pacific ocean on my right. Sometimes I could even see the surf breaking.
Was also surprised to find the amount of development, tall buildings announcing ocean views, and low financing, clearly targeted towards Gringos across the border. About 40-50 miles into Mexico, I started to relax a little bit, and was looking for a place to take a break and stretch my legs.
Soon enough, I happened on a pull over place, right next to the Pacific Ocean, with a lot of small shops, vendors trying to sell cheap jewelry, hats, toys etc. I pulled over and strolled to a shop that was selling coconuts, fruits and snacks. I ask for a coconut, and choose a mango from the basket, which the lady said she would cut it and bring it to me.
Its been a while I had fresh coconut water. It was delicious. And soon enough, she brought the sliced up mango with some hot sauce, lemon, and whatever else. That was even more delicious. I starting to feel that my decision to travel to this side of the border was after all a good one.
I thank the lady serving the food, and asked for permission to take her picture. She agrees coyly, and gives rather a nice smile.
I quickly get back on the road, and soon enough enter Ensenada. It was already 2 o'clock in the afternoon. I get gas at a Pemex station, the only of a kind that sells gas in Mexico, and weave through the streets of the town. The pace is very slow, with many signals, cars and people, I am feeling the heat inside my riding suit. I am thankful for the GPS guiding me.
I still have about 230 miles to get to Cataviña. Not a big deal I tell myself. But I was very wrong, as the usual travel times do not apply anymore. There are too many small towns, too many speed breaks and a few stretches of construction zones. Riding the ST1100 is no fun on dirt roads, little did I know I will be honing my skills, let alone getting scared riding on the occasional soft spots. Everytime I pass a construction zone with a diversion entirely a dirt road, there is a little hope that its going to be the last. To my dismay I find there is a LOT of road constructions. The machine rattles so much, that I am afraid that things will start falling apart.
By evening time, I reach El Rosario. Its almost 7 PM and even though there is sunlight, the sun seems to be in a hurry to call it a day. I fill up at the last Pemex station. There is no gas for the next 200 miles or so, until Guerrero Negro. Thats not true quite true, later I find out. I did carry two extra bottles which can hold half a gallon or so for good measure.
My GPS does not take the Mexican addresses well, as the format of the addresses in Mexico is different and the GPS does not recognize it.
My only hope is to reach the town and figure out the rest. I set the destination as Cataviña, and I do have a reservation at Hotel Mission Cataviña. Its another 90 miles or so.
Without knowing Spanish, its going to be hard even to ask for directions. As I am brooding over how am I going to spot the place, I saw an SUV with California license plate pull in. There was a dad, and his teenager daughter with two dogs. As the daughter takes the dogs for a little walk, the dad is filling up. Finally seeing someone from my home state, I strike a conversation. The talk was brief, and luckily they are going to the same hotel as I am. I ask him if he minds if I followed him. He says, "I dont mind at all, but you may be bored with following a slow car with a fast bike. You will spot the hotel on the right side of the road, as there is only one in the main strip, you cannot miss it".
For the fancy, I do follow him out of the gas station for a little bit. As we leave the town in a few miles, the road starts to climb. The sun, now almost at the horizon casting beautiful colors on the desert landscape. Unfortunately, there are no places to pull over to click a picture, as the shoulders exist barely and when they did, they are gravelly. I curse myself as I forgot to change batteries on my GoPro to even record the scenery.
There is a lot of cactuses, and nothing but cactuses, and their silhouettes stand tall and proud in front of the setting sun. A desert breeze, now lot cooler, was very pleasant.. I thought it was one of the most beautiful roads I had been on. Luckily, there are no construction zones on this stretch. I start to make good progress, and pass my friendly SUV, as he was indeed in no hurry to get anywhere anytime soon.
The darkness replaces the faint light, and I had to turn on my PIAA driving lights. The whole of Baja Peninsula is open range, as I will later learn. Even though I see the road in the faint light and the silhouette of the distant hills, the visibility was getting very poor. I dodge a few rabbits, and soon I see a cow wandering in the middle of the road when I come zooming past a curve. My heart skipped a beat, as the animal casts a indifferent look at me and continues to wander.
Finally, I see some car light, though a few miles behind me, keeping pace with me and may be even more. I feel a little safe knowing some one behind me even if I were to encounter an animal and go down.
After what seemed like an eternity through the twisties, I get close to Cataviña. A final stretch of construction appears just before the town limits, luckily its a very short one, and I hated riding on dirt in darkness.
I slowed down to a crawl as my GPS announced that I reached the destination, looking for any signs for the hotel, And there it was - a faint sign that said just hotel and not even the name of the hotel.
Like all places, other than the road, the sides are gravel. I pull in carefully, and it was indeed Hotel Mission Cataviña. As soon as I pull in, a cop car also pulls in right behind me. It was a cop all along who was behind me. In Mexico, the speed limits are in KM. I have been doing the same limit in miles, and by those standards I was speeding. There was a little lump in my throat, but he walks by ignoring me.
I check into the hotel, and surprised to find a beautiful place with clean rooms. Its one of those places, where once you step in, you want to come back. Certainly its a historic place, as the plaque in front announces.
A decent dinner, and a margarita in the restaurant inside the resort surely cheer me up.
The next day morning, I get up early to look around the surroundings. The hotel is very clean. With tiled floors and rustic furnitures, it has a country feel.
This place reminded me of the trip on Route 66 I took last year. It was a common sight to see a lot of broken down old cars, ghost towns, houses, restaurants and businesses on the way, which probably thrived when the road was originally built. Now, no one stops on the way, every one eager to cross the desert as soon as they can.
Right across the street is a quaint small cafe. I see the gentleman from California, whom I met the day before, and his daughter enter that place. In the mood for a little conversation, I follow them inside. The place is nothing but a thatched roof, with gravel flooring.
This place has a kitchen in the back, just like the one in homes. One lady takes the order and starts cooking. I order for coffee, and an omelette. The coffee was delicious, one of the best I ever had. It had a earthy flavor. And the omelette, big enough for me to not want lunch.
While there are no gas stations, gas is available on the road side. So, I decide to fill up for a good measure. Even though I knew it could be expensive, there was some satisfaction in giving business to the guy sitting on the road side, hoping make a living.
Leaving Cataviña, I realize how beautiful the place is in broad daylight, as it winds down to the plains of Guerrero Negro. It was an enjoyable ride through the desert in the morning. As the day progresses, the temperature becomes too hot.
Then I see a construction zone, and I had to stop. They are laying new pavement - and the alternative is the usual mud road on the side. Now that I had ridden on some dirt road, there was some confidence in my mind, and the closure does not seem that long. Without thinking, I follow the cars. But, boy I was wrong!
Unlike the previous ones, this was a Vado (a river crossing or a ford). There was a lot of soft sand. And before I realize it I am deep in to the road, with no option of turning around. Not paying much attention, and sweating dearly inside my suit I crawl trying to follow the tire marks of the truck in front of me. It did not take much for a heavy bike with road tires to get struck in the soft sand, and the rear wheel started spinning. The more I tried to get out, more it sank, and the front wheel also got struck in the soft sand, almost about a foot deep.
I get down from the bike, and ask help from the truck driver behind me who was patiently waiting for me to make progress. Once again, I had to use sign language to communicate how I want help. The traffic was piling behind me. With one guy pushing the bike, it still would not budge. I asked a second guy in a car to give a helping hand. Even then, it was impossible to move the bike as the rear wheel starts to spin in the sand. Finally I got out of my helmet and gloves, literally went on my knees and started to dig the sand out of the wheels way. I was nervous and getting tired too fast. Finally another try gets the bike off the quick sand, and slowly move inch at a time across the unpaved road to the main road where the construction ended. I wave a hearty thank you to those strangers who helped me out of this situation. These are the second set of angels who sweated along side me without any expectation, just to see a stranger get back on the road.
Pausing for a moment, I reflect on the fact that sometimes travelling alone could be dangerous. If I did not have the help, I could have been stranded there. I could have hit such a patch late in the night, and may not be a good situation to be alone, asking for trouble. Its certainly a good idea to have companions on such trips, not only for sharing the good experience but to be able to help and look out for each other.
From that point onwards, the ride was uneventful. I do take a break a little later, a dilapidated place, where there was some sign of gasoline from a truck. I am treated to a beautiful sight from the windowless wall. A couple of these kind of sights make it worth all the troubles.
I cross Guerrero Negro, right past the Baja Norte border. I do not realize the timezone changes here, ahead by one hour.
Next : Part 3 - Baja Sur (South Baja).
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